Pawns in the Game

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 5th November 2013

Characters: Vell, Prucius
Description: Prucius approaches Vell to further his suit
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 3, day 10 of Turn 7

The next day was clear and hot, and Vell found herself drawn to the
Holding's little courtyard after a light lunch of cold roasted ovine, fresh
redfruit and yesterday's bread. She found a stone bench warmed by the sun and
sat with her embroidery in her lap, staring dreamily across the paved paths and
past the stables to the road that led from home, winding through trees and
cotholds into wilder territories before coming to an end at the Sea of Azov.

Somewhere out there was Yarron, staring off into the blue just as she was.

She sighed and returned to her embroidery, a running pattern of leaves
and flowers along the edge of a fine woolen scarf. The sun soaked into her
shoulders, easing the ache from pulling a bowstring she'd earned hunting with
her brother the night before. They'd ridden to the Low Fields after dinner and
spent a half-hearted candlemark tracking feral canines before holding an
impromptu shooting competition using a haystack's whorl as a target. Elor had
won, of course.

A shadow fell across her lap. Vell looked up, irritated, and felt a pang
of panic when she saw Prucius had joined her. The guardsman was tall and rather
blocky, with a middle that was beginning to sag over his wide brown guardsman's
belt. He held a small bouquet of yellow wildflowers in his meaty fist, which he
offered to her.

There was no way she wanted to take the flowers from him. Flowers meant
something. But even as she thought it, her mother's lessons meant that her hand
was moving and she was speaking. "Thank you, Guardsman. This is most kind of
you. And unexpected."

"Unexpected?" A wrinkle of confusion appeared between Prucius' bushy brows.
"Your father said he'd spoken to you."

She froze, then stared down at the flowers in her hand. They were
delicate little things with five pointed petals apiece, a sunny starburst in
her palm. They offered her no comfort to her racing mind. "I..he did, Guardsman."

"Then you know I've offered for you." Prucius sounded relieved.

"Yes."

There was a small silence. "May I sit, Lady?" Prucius asked.

There was nothing that Vell wanted to do less at that moment than share
a bench with him, but it would be rude to turn him away. She scooted down a
little to give him room and the big guardsman sat beside her, folding his
scarred hands between his knees. He had hair on his knuckles, Vell saw, and
although she knew it was irrational she saw it as a mark against him.

They sat in silence for a moment, Vell staring at her embroidery and
Prucius looking off into the trees. Eventually he cleared his throat and began
to speak. "I'm not a talker like your last man. I'm not as smart. But I'm a
good man. I'll give you a home, and children, and be kind to you."

**Not leave, you mean.** Vell bit her lip and said nothing.

"And we wouldn't go anywhere. Move, I mean. Like your last man." Prucius
cleared his throat again. "I just mean that I don't have no reason to go
anywhere, so you can stay near your family. Your mother and father would be
heartbroken to see the back of you."

"Why me?" she asked softly, racing her embroidery with a fingertip.

Prucius was quiet for a moment. "I need a wife. My children need a
mother. You're a good woman, and I think I'd like making you happy."

Vell shook her head. "You might enjoy making any woman happy. What makes
you think that I'd be the best wife for you, and no other?"

The silence stretched. Vell peeked a look at him through her eyelashes
and saw he was staring off into the trees with an unreadable expression. He was
right when he'd described himself as untalkative, and an unbidden image of them
flashed before her eyes-old, sitting in silence before a fire with their knees
covered by a knitted yellow blanket, her tongue shriveled to dust between her
teeth.

Two spots of colour appeared on Prucius' cheeks as he cleared his throat
again. "You've grown into a beautiful woman, Vellience. You're smart. And I
like the way you sound when you laugh. I like your smile. Especially when you
think nobody important is looking. You're good with animals and kids. And you
can play music, and make pretty things like that." He gestured to the
half-finished scarf in her lap. "You'd make any man a good wife, but I hope
you'd consider being mine."

Vell returned her attention to the embroidery on her lap. She felt sick,
she felt so awful. To say such nice things about her when her thoughts had been
so cruel and when she had no intention of marrying Prucius. He might be old
and untalkative and unattractive to her eyes, but he _was_ a good man, and he
didn't deserve to be hurt by her. She took a deep breath, feeling a hot flare
of anger first toward Yarron, then her father. If Yarron had come home to her,
her father wouldn't want her to remarry and she wouldn't have to reject Prucius.

"Just consider me." Prucius had turned toward her on the bench, his
expression earnest. He made a motion as if to take her hands, but didn't quite
dare touch her. "I'm asking a big thing, and I'll understand if you say no. I'm
older than you, I have children by another woman. But just consider me."

Her hand tightened around the weedy little bouquet of flowers. "I will
consider it. Thank you for the flowers, Guardsman." The words tasted sour.

Prucius sketched a little bow. "That's all I ask. Good afternoon, miss."

"Good afternoon, Guardsman." Vell watched him leave with a spring in his
step or she was imagining one. It was bold of him to ask for her hand when she
was already married. It was also hopeless-she had no interest in marrying him,
even if she wasn't already married. Prucius might be a good man but he wasn't
the right sort of man for her, not one bit.

But Yarron was.

Her anger at Yarron and her father returned. It was unfair of them to
put her in the position of having to refuse, and even more inexcusable to put
Prucius in a position that would undoubtedly end in hurt. His hopes were
nothing more than a pawn in a game she, Yarron and her father were stuck
playing. Vell tore her gaze from Prucius' retreating back to stare back down
the road leading from the BeastHold. Somewhere beyond the hills was her wayward
husband. **Why won?t you just come home?** she thought. Her heart ached from
missing him while her anger sat like a cold stone in her belly.

After a moment she sighed, stood, and re-entered the gloom of the Hold.
Her embroidery needed finishing and the flowers needed water. It just felt
pointless when what she really needed was her husband to come back.

Last updated on the November 21st 2013

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